


Tangent Lines

by EquinoxSolstice



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Client!Yoongi, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Heavy with Feelings, Jimin is tired, M/M, Prostitute!Jimin, Yoongi Just Wants To Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquinoxSolstice/pseuds/EquinoxSolstice
Summary: Could he handle this? There would be another man on the other side, just waiting to ravish him and leaving without a word afterwards.He shuffled to the door, and placed his hand on the knob.He could. He had to.He opened the door to greet his new guest."My name is Jimin, and welcome, I’ll be serving you tonight.“He knocked lightly on the painted door, only to have it opened by the prettiest creature he’d ever seen. Dark brown eyes, framed by dark circles, pale pink lips, even paler skin, barely marked, and chestnut hair, ruffled and messy.He was beautiful.So Yoongi smiled at the man, dipping his head. “I’m Yoongi.”(A story of love, romance, and heartbreak in one night.)





	Tangent Lines

Jimin struggled to get up, despite the soreness and exhaustion of his body.

Another customer was going to arrive in a moment, and he had to be ready, and to be honest Jin didn’t have the energy anymore. But did he have a choice in the matter? This was the job he chose, to be a whore in a whorehouse to be used by endless men every night.

The lowest of the low.

With great effort he cleaned himself up and donned a dark blue robe; he was going to be naked in a few moments anyway. Just as he tied the sash, there was a knock on the door, and Jimin tensed.

Could he handle this? There would be another man on the other side, just waiting to ravish him and leaving without a word afterwards.

He shuffled to the door, and placed his hand on the knob.

He could.

He had to.

And with that, he opened the door to greet his new guest.

"My name is Jimin, and welcome, I’ll be serving you tonight.“

* * *

To be honest, Yoongi frequented places like these more often then he’d admit to. Such was the life of a man on the high road.

Every so often–and for Yoongi, that was _often_ –you needed someone. A warm body to lay next to, a pliant hole to fuck into. And, though Yoongi could have no doubt found his next willing match at some out of the way bar, a seedy alehouse or a run down tavern, he much preferred the brothels.

Maybe it was the illusion of elegance, maybe it was the beauty of the courtesans, or maybe it was just simply the promise of an expert, someone who knew exactly what they were doing with him. Drunken fumbles simply paled in comparison.

He knocked lightly on the painted door, only to have it opened by the prettiest creature he’d ever seen. Dark brown eyes, framed by dark circles, pale pink lips, even paler skin, barely marked, and chestnut hair, ruffled and messy.

He was beautiful.

So Yoongi smiled at the man, dipping his head. “I’m Yoongi.”

* * *

Once again Jimin fought the urge to squirm, and stepped aside to let his customer in, closing and locking the door behind him. He was so _tired_. The man wasn’t hard on the eyes, with pretty brow eyes and a a pair of dimples on his cheeks, tall and lean, painfully his type if he had been looking.

As it was, he had spent so many nights with different kinds of men, old, young, handsome and not, and not in the place to be looking for a relationship.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about this now.

"How long will you be staying? Would you like a drink?” Which was code for ‘how long have you paid for me’.

His room was large, extensive, with a mini bar and a small library because this was where they slept, along with the various gifts his loyal patrons gave him. Gifts he knew he could refuse, but didn’t.

Yoongi had heard that little speech a million times over. _'Hi, my name is... I’ll be serving you tonight. How long do I have to deal with you for? Can I get you drunk, so that you’re faster and easier?’_

It was rehearsed and robotic, and Yoongi half wanted to snigger at how ridiculous it all was.

It was better, of course, than getting saddled with someone, learning their life’s story, all their woes and horrors, and then having them for a quick tumble in the back of his car, or in one of the bathroom stalls.

But the fakeness of it all, while at times comforting in it’s regularity, got old rather quickly. Sometimes, he thought he could be like Namjoon. Try for an actual relationship. But then he watched his best friend get his heart broken for the umpteenth time, and quickly swore it off, running back to a whorehouse, to stability, and comfort.

“I’ll be around for the rest of the night. And a beer would be great.” He always paid for the night, seeing as he hated going back to his shared place with Namjoon, reeking of sex, and trying to sleep in their crappy shared bedroom. And because sometimes, he just liked to _sleep_ with someone. Have a warm, living body next to him for the night.

"Of course. Please, make yourself comfortable.“ Jimin said out loud, though internally cringing. All nighters were the worst ones. Usually they just came in, throw him on the bed, have they way with him and leave without a word. Wham, bam, goodbye man, that was norm, although this wasn’t too unusual, the guests wanting to wind down and get some liquid courage before doing the deed.

Some of those who really liked him talked a little, but more often than not Jimin would be sore and aching at the end of the night.

He went to the mini fridge, usually people liked this interlude because this was prime opportunity to get their hands on him, more often than not, having sex right there and then. He wanted to sleep.

But at least, this was the last one for the day.

Yoongi watched him. And not just eyeing him up, getting a good look at the eyecandy, no matter how absolutely sweet it was.

He could usually suss out the prostitute's character. Some of them would be sassy, some sweet, all taking on a character different than themselves. But they’d all be revealed in those little movements. During sex, and before it. Little sways of the hip, little twitches of the eyebrow.

Some of them liked sex. Really, truly enjoyed it. Viewed the job as easy money doing something that came even easier to them. Some hated it, needing the money, but hating the fact that they did. And some were simply tired of it all, ready to give it up, and knowing they couldn’t.

Yoongi would have pegged Jimin as the last one, until he noticed that the man wasn’t only tired of life, he was actually _tired_. Worn right out. Yoongi must be his last customer of the night, and it looked to him like the man had already had a rather busy one.

So Yoongi bounced down on the bed, and looked at Jimin. "So, who’d you piss off?” He asked, wondering exactly what kind of asshole would book the man up all night long.

"No one.“ Jimin could read the question as easily as Yoongi could read him. He was surprised, initially, that the other man could see through him, but it was fine.

Talking about other clients were confidential. He couldn’t exactly tell Yoongi he had appointments every hour with no breaks. It was too haughty, and he should be proud that he had a lot of clients, but he wasn’t. A lot of them promised to take him away, but it was just that, promises.

Jimin was all too used to the allure of having a kept lover.

His last client wasn’t exactly… gentle, but he paid highly. No marks on his face, but everything else was fair game. "Here you go.” He popped open a bottle of ice cold beer and slid it to Yoongi. He looked like someone who appreciated a beer from the bottle.

Yoongi took the beer from him easily, tapping the cool glass of it with one fingernail, and giving the other male a rather sarcastic smirk. “Cheers.” He said, taking a slow but long gulp of the beer. It was good stuff too. Not too briny, with just enough kick to make him wonder exactly how much it would put on his tab.

Thank God he was an accomplished alcoholic, or he’d be buzzed finishing just one of these babies. A happy buzz makes for a happy customer, he thought with an inward chuckle.

“So, Min.” He said easily, conversationally. “Seeing as you are totally dead on your feet, can I assume that either the last customer was really damned amazing, and you’re happily fucked out, or that he sucked and now you’re just tired?”

"I can’t talk about my other clients,“ Jimin answered breezily, going to the mini bar to fix a little something for himself, dumping an energy drink while at it. He could tell that this would be a long night, and he had to stay awake.

He noted the nickname. Nobody has ever referred to him like that before, and he found that he liked it. Short and straight to the point, unlike Chim Chim, which Taehyung, a… co-employee, favored, or the endearments like baby, honey… or the degrading ones.

_Min._

They could call him whatever they want, but at least Yoongi wasn’t calling him a slut or a whore.

Yet.

"That's confidential.” His muscles ached, and not in a good way. People come here to chase their pleasures and Jimin, more often than not, was just a way to get there.

Yoongi did let out a chuckle at that. The rules was probably less for client confidentiality, and more to keep up the fantasy. That this man was yours, and yours alone for one whole night. And who’d want to ruin that fantasy with the knowledge that your man had other men?

Maybe a few, who wanted to take out the misplaced sexual aggression they had towards cheating wives or husbands, or something else of that nature, but that, that wouldn’t really be any fun for either the client, or Jimin.

“Alright then, since talking about work is out of the question, let’s try the other classics. Should we talk about weather, or wow, this place is really nice, or even Jesus H. Christ, you would not _believe_ what Chaeyoung at the bus stop did today. What’s your favorite awkward small talk starter? Pick your poison.”

Jimin stared at him for a moment, slowly getting less confused and more… surprised. Yoongi was talking to him. Normally. Like he would to any other person in the world.

And it was… an unsettling feeling.

Still, he had to go with the flow, a prostitute was paid to cater to their buyer’s pleasures and if Yoongi wanted to talk, then they would talk.

Obedience was one of the virtues of a whore.

“I don’t know about Chaeyoung, but I believe there’s something about Mina or Jihyo that happened today.” He answered dryly, waiting for the drink to kick in and give him the energy to at least respond.

Exhaustion was making him sassy, and it was bad form. “… I'm sorry, that was out of line.”

Yoongi just grinned at Jimin, all teeth and gums. “Well, that’s a damned shame, because here I was, gearing up for this epic story about the failures and triumphs of Mina or Jihyo, and all I got was an 'I'm sorry’ which, honestly doesn’t make much sense, seeing as that was the first thing you said to me since I walked through this door that was all you, and not some bullshit straight out of the employee handbook.” He took another sip of his beer, eyeing Jimin the whole time.

Then he leaned back against the bed again, and gave the man a rather cocky grin. “Now, honestly, I could push you into horribly awkward small talk in a sad, sad attempt to break the ice, but I have a feeling that you are so not in the mood to try and bandy 'work appropriate’ words around. So, how about you be you, and say every God damn thing you want to say, no apologies, and I be me, and we’ll see how it goes, huh?”

"… If that’s what you want.“ Jimin acquiesced at that, following orders because such as the life of a whore. He turned to Yoongi once more, seeing that the beer was almost empty. "Would you like another?”

He was waiting for the hammer to drop, no more pretenses and just go on to some straight up fucking. At least then he knew what to do. This… was nothing he was ever prepared for.

He didn’t like this feeling, like he was being played around, even though he knew that wasn’t the Jimine at all. Yoongi was… just that, someone who appreciated things up front.

He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, despite the drink. He shifted, hoping that he didn’t convey his unease. Grabbing another beer, He shuffled back to Yoongi, holding it out. And just as he did, he fumbled, the bottle falling from his grasp and meeting the floor with a heavy thunk. “Oh my god–”

_Shit._

Yoongi watched the bottle fall from Jimin's hands and something snapped at him, accompanied by the sound of the bottle hitting the floor.

Now, Min Yoongi wasn’t by any standard a saint. Hell, he would never be considered a good guy, someone who did the right thing, and lived by some moral code of shining light, or whatever. But even Yoongi knew that this was wrong, that Jimin was exhausted, and that he had absolutely no business keeping him up. The man was obviously so tired that he could hardly see straight, could barely move without showing how stiff and sore he was, and Yoongi had had enough of it.

“Okay, you? Bed. Seriously, just get in the bed.” And, though he’d meant to let Yoongi do it in his own time, he couldn’t help but pull the man himself, almost dragging him onto the sheets.

It was so fast it blurred, and Jimin barely had time to react before he was on the bed. Was this it? But no, Yoongi wasn’t climbing with him, he was moving around, discarding the bottle, and shame filled him. He was cursing inwardly, because that was a good beer and it was coming out of his paycheck. Unless of course, he told them that it was done during a fit of reckless passion and would mean that Yoongi had to pay for it…

Better him than Yoongi. He threw the covers off and stood up, found a rag to soak up the mess, this was the proof that he was too exhausted, too addled to do anything, he couldn’t even do his job right and it was frustrating.

“I really am sorry.” He murmured, kneeling down and starting to clean up.

Yoongi just knelt down next to Jimin, taking the rag right out of his hands, not bothering to be gentle about it.

“Jimin.” He said sternly, in the same tone of voice he used on Jungkook, when the younger had done something stupid or reckless. Then, he looked away, and began to mop up the beer himself, rubbing hard and fast, and demolishing any chance of it staining with quick, easy motions. “I am one clumsy motherfucker, and I dropped my beer because I was too focused on your ass.” He said authoritatively. “Now, will you just get into bed? I’ll take care of this.”

Because Jimin looked like he was about to keel over any second now, and Yoongi, for the life of him, couldn’t let that happen. He placed a hand on top of Jimin’s head, ruffling the man’s hair gently for a moment, before nudging him up. “C'mon. Bed.”

”… I have to do my job.“ Jimin said softly, though he let Yoongi do the work for him.

He wasn’t used to such kindness. But Yoongi was different, he was _respectful_. And Jimin couldn’t stop him because it was what the other man wanted, he was a prostitute, he lived for the orders of his buyer, because he could only stay meek, be obedient and follow Yoongi's words.

If Yoongi wanted to take care of him, then Jimin only had to obey and follow through. He let the other man handle him, silent, not resisting.

Yoongi was kind, almost too much so, and it scared him. "Please, just–” He was pleading, because it wasn’t supposed to be that way. Jimin was supposed to serve him, not the other way around.

Yoongi looked at Jimin softly, before getting up himself, and going over to the other male, putting his arms around him gently, and giving him a hug.

It was the best he could do, the only thing, he could do, and the only thing he could think to do.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s all okay. You did your job, alright? I’m still here, and it was just one spilled beer. Now, you’re going to get in bed, and you’re going to sleep, alright? You damn well need it.” And with that, he gave Jimin a small peck on the forehead, gently nudging him towards the bed, and finishing up with the cleaning, taking the rag, and washing it in the small attached bathroom.

The hug was completely unexpected. Jimin stiffened, stared out blankly, his brain haywiring and his heart thrumming because no one… touched him that way before. Intimate, but not sexual.

Yoongi's arms were warm and comforting. The kiss on his head was gentle and tender. Jimin… never felt like this before. No one treated him like this, like he was someone human, someone normal, someone who also had feelings and emotions.

Yoongi made him feel like… he wasn’t a nobody. That he wasn’t just a whore, a slut. He made him feel like… he had someone to run to.

And it completely terrified him.

Jimin was silent, being tended to by a man who should have come and gone as he should, because then Jimin’s world would still be intact. He didn’t like feeling like this, emotions were a tricky part, he shouldn’t get attached, Yoongi was someone who paid to have sex with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

What did that make Yoongi, then?

He sat on the bed, still frozen, and a small part of him… was touched.

“… Thank you.” He said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I bet I’m a damn sight better at cleaning up beer stains than you are.“ Yoongi replied, with a cheeky smirk thrown Jimin’s way. He had, after all, been born and bred on cleaning up after people. Cleaning up after Namjoon when he always broke things, cleaning up after his dad when he’d had one too many of those beers, cleaning up after his first long bout of depression, cleaning up, cleaning up, cleaning up.

Cleaning up messes, cleaning up streets, cleaning up after all the other, dirty people in the world, and waiting until it was his turn. The others wasn’t as dirty as he was. Probably because they'd met a few people, fallen in love with them, and they were washed clean, for a while.

Yoongi had never had that. Never had a Jin, or a Hoseok, or anyone at all. "Now, are you going to listen to me, and try to get some rest, or are we going to have to go through the whole song and dance where you try to do your job, and I have to convince you to stop and sleep, even though that’s what you really want to do too?”

Jimin hesitated. “You’re not going to…?” He let the sentence hang in the air, biting his lip.

By all means, Jimin wasn’t deprived, this was one of the best brothels in the country. They were pampered and taken care of, and if Jimin had to be a whore then he would rather be a whore in a building where he knew he would be relatively safer than out in the streets, who he knew were dependent on drugs and alcohol. Here, he was more secure. But their… establishment had a satisfaction guarantee stamp on it, and by the events that happened today, Yoongi wouldn’t enjoy his stay. He couldn’t refund, it would be bad for business, and he would be punished.

Jimin didn’t understand. What did Yoongi want from him? He was allowing the older to take care of him, wasn’t he?

This… was so different from his other guests and clients that he felt lost. “Please. Let me do my job properly, I…” He said softly, because his business couldn’t suffer. He couldn’t let his reputation be soiled. “I… I don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

Yoongi looked at Jimin for a minute, and then, he crawled into bed with him. “I’m going to tell you something about me.” He said quietly. “Something I haven’t told many people before, so, you’d better listen up.”

He took a breath, and flopped over the bed. “I love sex. Sex is great and wonderful and blah blah blah. Now, I’m not exactly hard up, you know what I’m saying? I could go to a bar and pick up someone. Easier than anything. But I’m not looking for a relationship, and I’m not looking for a one hour fuck. Sometimes, a guy just wants someone to sleep with. Real sleep. Like, snoring and twisting and turning and cuddling even if you don’t mean to sleep with someone. That’s why I booked you all night. So, Jimin, would you like to sleep with me? Even if I snore and kick you a little bit, and you might have to wake me up in the morning?”

That was, by far, the most unusual request Jimin has ever heard in his entire life. Paying someone just to literally sleep beside them? Jimin has heard of submissives, yes, and sensualists, but this was… well, really different.

He stared at his hands. “You’re here because you want to sleep beside someone.” He finally said, because honestly? He expected to be fucked and to pass out afterwards.

Well… he would have to make do. And besides, he owed it to Yoongi, and his kindness. “I… of course. If that is what you want.”

Yoongi just chuckled at the expression on Jimin’s face. He knew exactly how he sounded, like some wack job, the crazy man who came to a brothel, fucked the prostitute more because he wanted to keep up appearances than anything, just to get to the main goal.

Actually sleeping with them.

“Of course it’s what I want.” He said easily, totally, and utterly unashamed, because he could be, could afford to be. “Don’t knock human contact, Jimin.” He added flippantly. “Sometimes, it’s a hell of a lot better than sex.”

Just feeling someone next to you, sleeping with you, warm and pliant, chest rising and falling. It was the last part that always got to him. The heartbeat, the intake and exhale of air. It meant that there was a person, a real person, full of life next to him. So alive that it could make up for all the deadness around him. “Now, come cuddle with me, and let’s go to bed, alright?”

Jimin… felt strangely guilty, eating away Yoongi's time, but then again, it was a logical move. Jimin was too tired to service him properly, so a few hours of rest would do him good, and by then he would be able to accommodate Yoongi more thoroughly. Besides, this was what Yoongi wanted, didn’t he?

Jimin pulled the sheets back, watching as Yoongi switched off all the lights, and the room was bathed in complete darkness. Somehow… this made it easier, because Yoongi couldn’t see his face. He didn’t… Jimin was struck with a realization.

He didn’t want Yoongi to think bad of him.

But rather than ponder on that, it was a dangerous thought, Jimin slipped inside, biting back a sigh at the comfortable mattress. “Yoongi?” He called out.

"Yeah?“ Yoongi practically hummed in reply, stripping of his jacket, which he honestly hadn’t thought of doing wince he got in here. Jimin was... well, the most unique prostitute he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. Usually, the second he was through the door, there were simpering, sickly sweet smiles and a _'Here, let me take your jacket, you must be so warm. Go on, take the shirt off too’_.

He supposed that Jimin was either too highly trained, or simply too tired to resort to such tricks of the trade. He took of his shoes as well, waiting for Jimin's reply.

Jimin was silent for a moment. Despite Yoongi's hospitality, despite everything, Jimin knew his place. Yoongi was a man, a man who paid to get some pleasure, some comfort in the arms of another. And even if Jimin couldn’t give that sexual pleasure, not yet, basing on what Yoongi said, the other man might be someone who wanted intimacy with sex. And Jimin could give him that intimacy he craved, even as he slept.

Besides, it was also late, Yoongi would need his rest as well. "Will you… hold me?” It would take Jimin a while, but some of his clients did sleep through the night with him, this wouldn’t be any different. “You also need to sleep.” And this was an opportunity to have skin to skin contact, and Jimin was banking on that knowledge, so he could satisfy what Yoongi wanted.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Jimin couldn’t see him in the dark of the room. And then, maybe it was something in the other man’s voice, maybe it was just because it was exactly what Yoongi wanted to hear, but he found himself walking over to the bed, listing up the sheets and the covers, and slipping into it, next to Jimin, his body wright making an indent on the mattress. Usually, he wasn’t so huge on the whole cuddly buddy thing, preferring the barely there touches and the slight nudge of another person against his side.

But, maybe he'd been restraining himself all those other times, because he found himself reaching out for Jimin, and nestling into the other man gently, carefully. “If I make you uncomfortable, you let me know.” He said gruffly.

"I’m fine.“ The moment that Yoongi lied beside him, Jimin could feel the tension skyrocket, not much, but just enough to notice. Some of his patrons did this, as a way of getting closer, to fondle him in the darkness, and Jimin had no choice but to accept and submit.

He was waiting for the hand to slide under his robe, for the larger body to trap him between the sheets, but there was none. Yoongi kept to his side of the bed, kept a distance, and he was honestly destroying Jimin more than if he actually raped him right there and then. The weight of the other side of the bed wasn’t unfamiliar, but… it was more welcome. For all Jimin said that he was tired, he couldn’t even sleep.

And for a few moments he stared up the ceiling, breathing slowly, not wanting to move his head and look at Yoongi, to see what he looked like, to know how his skin felt.

After a moment of simply lying there, feeling each other breathe, finally, with a mental _'Oh fuck it all’_ , Yoongi wormed a gentle arm around Jimin’s shoulders, pulling the man a bit closer, so that he could nuzzle gently into Jimin’ space. It wasn’t too huge an overture, he didn’t even go so far as to put Jimin’s head on his chest, or the hollow of his neck, didn’t curve his body to mold himself close around Jimin.

He just lay there with him, closer than before, but far from too close, the stuffy kind of close that made you want to scream at the other person to just release you. He just hoped that if Jimin really did get uncomfortable, whether it was the position, or if he was cramping up, or even if he just didn’t want to be this close to Yoongi, that Jimin would move, would turn over, or simply tell Yoongi what he was feeling. "Night, Min.” He murmured then, softer this time, than any of his other words.

He pecked the top of Jimin’s head, the affectionate gesture coming as almost second nature to him, and then turned his head, staring up into the darkness, and trying to think sleepy thoughts.

Jimin’s heart stuttered. “Good night.” Talk. Maybe that would keep his nerves calm. His kinder patrons always did this, after the deed, and if Jimin wasn’t too tired. They would talk, and Jimin would listen. Jimin probably had enough blackmail to completely bribe a CEO of a multinational company, one of his clients of whom he was a dear favorite was one. He also promised to take Jimin away, but he really didn’t want to be the lover of a 56 year old man, no matter how rich he was.

Prostitutes, apart from fucking, also had another job, and that was to listen. To become conversationalists and to give advice. Some of his patrons just pay to let them blow off some steam by talking about their problems. Which was how Jimin got his degree in psychology.

“I… Tell me something about yourself?” Some of his clients were friends, but Jimin never tried to be closer.

"About me?“ Yoongi asked the darkness, not bothering to turn his head and get a good look at Jimin. "Well, it’s not that interesting a story, mine.” Except that, to someone else, it just might be. The alcoholic, policeman turned deadbeat of a father, who’d forced Yoongi into his lifestyle, running away when he was sixteen, getting his heart broken because his songs weren't selling, constantly moving around, trying to make ends meet. His first boss, the one who took advantage of him and swindled every penny he had, made him live in the most painful way possible. His new boss, a man more a father to him than anything, who helped him with his music, helping him find his sound the proper way, the right way, despite his mental issues and problems.

It was messy and awful and most of the time, Yoongi couldn’t imagine that this was the right thing. But, he didn’t know anything else. Finally though, he smiled. “I have a music crew.” He said softly, practically emanating pride. “Most talented bunch I ever knew. Became a real good group.”

Jimin listened as much as he was able, cataloging the information for future use. Yoongi voice had a rough, husky quality to it, definitely sexy. “You’re very proud of them,” it was a statement, and it spoke volumes about Yoongi.

Jimin could see it from a mile away. Yoongi had one of those pasts that were either painful or difficult, or both.

"Damn straight I’m proud of them. They're getting signed on a label soon.“ Yoongi boasted proudly. Along with Yoongi, who had dreamed of this moment, of having his music heard. The real battle would start, but he was content enough with this victory.

Jimin was thoughtful. One good turn deserved another. “Our lives aren't that different.” He said softly, with wonder, barely heard, but with Yoongi's distance, enough. Telling his life story was like telling a fairytale, because Jimin could hardly believe that he was describing himself. The older brother, who wanted to dance, who got kicked out and had his dreams crushed, the black sheep of the family. The one that got disowned.

He laughed softly. “You can imagine how that went. Went around, trying to find work, got myself placed here. Never really left.” He turned around as well to face Yoongi, his lazy eyes almost shining in the semi-darkness.

Yoongi looked over at Jimin, nudging him a bit, whether in solidarity, or comfort, he couldn’t really decide. “Well, sucks for them. They missed out on a good one.” He huffed decisively. Because Jimin was a good one, a good man, and Yoongi despised with all his heart a parent who would abandon their child, leave them, kick them out, hurt them that way.

"I believe you.“ And it told Jimin a lot about his character. Yoongi was a good, kind-hearted man who loved his friends to death. He was a good man. "Well… I was expecting it. I never did follow the grand design.” He turned on his back, but tilted his head to the side, staring at Yoongi. “So there’s my punishment. My father’s gone, but I keep in touch with my younger brother.” Of course, he never told Jihyun what he did for a living, he didn’t want their pity, he could make money himself, and not rely on them, even if they were willing. “It’s all right, it’s done and over with.” He was so relaxed now, so loose, he could sleep right at that moment.

But he wanted to talk to Yoongi more.

And in that moment, Yoongi found that he _hated_ Jimin’s family. Probably because he was born and bred on the idea of family, raised to believe that no matter what happened, no matter how much it hurt you, not matter what they did, you did everything for you family. You got them out of jail, you saved their asses when they got caught in a fight, you were their wingman when they needed one.

Family, to Yoongi, was everything, and he couldn’t fathom brothers standing by, and watching Jungkook's father kick him out, disown him. He’d have fought, tooth and nail for Jungkook, and he held every other older brother to that same standard, though he knew that not even half of them would live up to it. “I say, fuck the grand design.” He huffed. “You didn’t deserve any kind of punishment for not fitting in.”

Yoongi wasn’t just angry of Jimin’ behalf. He was angry in general. At anyone who’d ever hurt someone, who’d throw them out just because they weren’t perfect. Didn’t live up to that standard, that didn’t really matter anyway. Maybe it was because he could see himself in it. See his own broken reflection in all those other kids whose parents didn’t give a damn about them. And maybe he just hated Jimin’s family because they didn’t stick by him, didn’t do everything they could for him.

"You don’t need to be angry on my behalf. It’s fine.“ And look at that. Jimin was still terrified about how close he was to Yoongi, not just physically, for this one night. But maybe because Yoongi had been so kind, and shown himself as a good-hearted man that he wanted to rest, his eyelids protesting despite his efforts, and Jimin knew he was finally done for the night.

Barely holding on to his professionalism, he voiced out a plea that was something more personal than something he did to play along. As much as he told himself that this was just because it was what Yoongi wanted, he couldn’t deny to himself that… he wanted it too.

"Yoongi… can I… be closer?”

Jimin's soft voice broke Yoongi out of his own head, and he furrowed his brows a little at the question, but, nevertheless, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course you can, Jimin.”

Jimin was literally laying his heart on the line, trusting Yoongi to not hurt him, to not take advantage of him, to not use him like everyone else did. It might be stupid, it was still so early in the game, this could be gone as quick as a snap, which was why Jimin was clinging to it for all that its worth. It was better to have bittersweet memories, than none at all.

And Jimin was berating himself, how could he do this to himself so early, already on a road to heartbreak, but he didn’t care.

He rested his head on Yoongi's chest, felt the rise and dip of his breaths, hand resting over his heart. Most of the time he was spooned, like he was a possession, but like this… it was as if Yoongi was giving him an opportunity to pull away, and he appreciated that. Their legs tangled, and this could be the closest thing he would have to something real. He promised to himself to show Yoongi a good time tomorrow.

“… Sometimes I wonder… if I could have a different life.” He said softly. “But… this is all right. It’s okay.” And, if he was honest with himself, this was what he wanted in his job, the feeling of… well… you’re not alone.

Human connection, Yoongi thought for a moment. Real, honest to God human connection. It was better than sex. Better than anything, really. Having someone this close, a warm body, a human pulse. It was a feeling of life. Life all around him, right there in Jimin, in himself, and in them.

And that kind of connection? That was what Yoongi had been searching for all along. Not the empty, hollow touches, the kisses that weren’t kisses, not the sensation of skin on skin, that, while silky and slick and sweet, left a bad taste in your mouth.

Yoongi had found it. What he’d really wanted. Human connection.

He thought of asking Jimin if he really wanted a different life, if he wanted one out in the world, wanted one with no restrictions, no boundaries. And, though he had no right to, he found himself half aching with the knowledge that, even if he wanted to, which, he just thought he might, he couldn’t take Jimin away with him. Because his life? Was no better than this life. It was no life at all. Just death.

“This–” He said slowly, “now is good.”

Because if there was one thing that Yoongi had learned, it was to live in the moment, and this moment? Was one of the best moments he’d ever had.

Yoongi was warm. Not just his body. Jimin couldn’t explain it, but it was… more. Much more. His breaths evened out, slowed, and his body rid of the tension. The ache lingered, but it would be gone soon.

“Yoongi, I…” He didn’t know what to say, if he could say, but he thought Yoongi would understand. His fingers clung on tighter to Yoongi's shirt, the material cool and soft against his heated cheeks. “Good night.” He said instead, and he meant it.

It was a good night. It was one of the best nights he had.

"… Night, Jimin.“ Yoongi replied, unable to help the tiny kiss he pressed to the top of Jimin’s head. A kiss that lasted far longer than it should have, and, instead of pulling away, Yoongi just let his head rest a bit on Jimin’s, one hand on the other man’s back, not moving, or massaging, or drawing circles and patterns, simply resting there, keeping Jimin close to him.

"Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He added, because it was something that his father had always said to him and his older brother, something he had repeated faithfully to the younger ones until they grew old enough to think it themselves.

Jimin chuckled, and his eyes slipped shut. He slept, for how long Jimin didn’t know. But he woke up, refreshed and energized, in time to see the sunlight just barely filtering through the windows, and he knew it was very early in the morning, early enough that most of his co-workers were probably still asleep, alone or otherwise.

For the first time in a while he felt safe and protected, that he was in bed with someone who didn’t fuck him, who talked and gave him back the piece of humanity he thought he lost. His eyes fluttered open, raising his head slightly to meet with Yoongi's still sleeping face, still clothed, and as far as Jimin could see, still untouched.

Yoongi kept his word. He took the moment to look at Yoongi, realizing that, in the dim light, he had freckles on his nose and it was somewhat cute.

Before he knew it his hand was up, going to trace Yoongi's nose and quickly pulled back. Maybe he should get breakfast for Yoongi. He didn’t know how long was 'all night’, and tried to take off the arm that was still on his waist, trying his best not to wake him.

Yoongi was having a lovely dream. He was in hell. Real hell, with fire, and everything, and it was awful, and painful, and everything was wrong. But then there was a hand on him, on his arm, on his hand, pulling at him, yanking him up. Warm almond eyes staring down at him, multiple wings beating at the air. “I took you, and I raised you from this pain.” The voice was saying, high and sweet, and Yoongi didn’t know why it was so comforting to hear. And then he was free. No more fire, no more pain, just him, and the angel, who was– leaving.

Why was he leaving?

Yoongi reached out for him, trying to pull him back, but the angel just shook his head, staring back at him with sad, sparkling eyes. “I did it– all of it–for _you_.” He said quietly, and that’s when Yoongi awoke with a start, staring up at messy black hair, sunshine combing through the mussed strands.

"Jesus.” He groaned, relaxing back into the mattress. “Warn a guy.” He added with a grumble, burying his face in the pillow for a moment, before it all came rushing back, and he turned to blink steadily up at Jimin.

"… Good morning.“ It didn’t surprise him that Yoongi was awake, merely sighed when he failed in his objective. Jimin got up more smoothly, somewhat disheveled and the parting of his robe bigger, the tie looser but still knotted. "Breakfast?”

He grabbed the telephone on the bedside table and pressed a number for a long time before replacing the receiver once more. He stood up, opening the smaller lamps as opposed to the single bright chandelier, and ran a hand through his hair. Now that he had more energy it was easier to go back to the old routine.

“I called your complimentary tray, it should be delivered in a while.” He should dress more appropriately, but… they still didn’t had sex. Something he should get over with, but… he couldn’t go back. Not anymore. “The bathroom’s over there, you can freshen up.”

Yoongi yawned a bit, stretching out limbs that felt oddly jello like, and relaxed. It had been a while since he’d slept that well, he thought to himself. Still, he watched Jimin with bleary eyes, and had to hold in a moan, and then a groan.

The moan, because he could practically see all of the man’s chest, white, smooth skin that looked like it would be heaven to touch, and he could see more of his legs, too, which were just as amazing. And, you couldn’t really blame him for looking, not when he still had morning wood, and especially not when Jimin was this attractive.

The groan was more because Jimin was back to business, and Yoongi was probably going to be booted out of here in twenty minutes flat. Still, he got up, out of bed, and stretched. “Freshen up, huh?” He asked with a smirk, because honestly, he’d never been asked to 'freshen up’ in his life.

"If you want.“ Both of them had to understand, their relationship was purely business. Jimin let his guard down last night, he was tired, and he needed the break.

Hopefully Yoongi understood.

The knock on his door broke the rising awkwardness, and Jimin went to get it, the tray heavier than usual because Jimin had to eat with Yoongi. It was laden with the best they had to offer, bread, eggs, bacon, coffee and tea with just one mug because Jimin has his own.

He would never forget Yoongi's arms around him and the way he was held. Never. He would treasure it for the rest of his life.

But for now, Jimin had to be professional.

He brought it in and placed it on the table. Back to business it was, and, though he knew it was probably far more logical, far better for the two of them, Yoongi missed the feeling of Jimin in his arms, wondered how well it would go over if he just walked up behind the other man, wrapped his arms tight around his waist, and buried his head in the crook of Jimin’s neck.

Unfortunately, the answer was most likely negative, and Yoongi really, really hated rejection. So he merely let out a groan, and shuffled over to the table laden down with food, as though summoned by the scent of it.

"Jesus Christ, you guys really don’t half ass anything, huh?” He asked in awe, looking down at the spread, and stealing a bit of bacon, popping it into his mouth and groaning at the taste. Definitely not the overly sugary cereal he usually had in the morning

"Coffee? How do you take it?“ Jimin brought in his own mug from the table, started mixing, lots of sugar and cream for him. "Come on, let’s eat.”

Breakfast was a quieter affair than Jimin imagined, because he knew everything had changed. Everything was different now. “We take care of our clients so they’ll be more likely to come back. It’s complimentary. Do you still have time?” Jimin resisted the urge to blush because god, he hears that noise every single night with one of his clients… but with Yoongi it sounded more genuine… and it was concentrated on food.

He hid behind his mug for the briefest moment, trying to pull himself together, and doing Yoongi's coffee.

"Black.“ Yoongi replied, mouth now full. He slid into the seat at the table, and grabbed the mug provided from him, giving it to Jimin so that the man could pour the coffee into it. Then he grinned at the man, mouth closed, because a piece of bacon was still half poking out from between his lips. He chewed it all down quickly though, with quiet sounds of appreciation, because if there was one thing Yoongi loved more than sleep, it was food.

"This- Is a very good marketing plan. Jesus, I’d come back just for the bacon.” He replied. “And yeah, I’m here until...” He went over the hours in his head, mentally ticking them off. “Ten.”

True to order, Jimin just poured it straight to the mug. “I will pass on the message to the staff.” He said with quiet humor, waiting until it was almost full to the brim, and stopped.

Ten. It was just a little over seven. More than enough time.

Yoongi was handsome when he smiled like that.

And Jimin shouldn’t be thinking like that at all. “Here. It’s hot.” He put down the large cup back on the tray, and it was for him, a deciding moment.

He paused, looking at Yoongi, face black but eyes indecisive. He settled for something along the lines of regret and quiet apology, that he had to break Yoongi's illusions so soon.

And his own.

Yoongi just looked at Jimin who, in some inexplicably way, looked so resigned, so cold and shut off, and Yoongi could do nothing but nod in acknowledgment.

It wasn’t his place to get involved with Jimin, wasn’t his place to get emotionally attached, or, really, attached at all. He was just a paying customer, just another client, and Jimin could only ever see him as such.

Yoongi wasn’t delusional, wasn’t a man who could get lost in such illusions. But this one...

This one hurt just a bit. Or, at least, leaving it did. Because he wasn’t special. Never would be.

And he had to come to terms with that.

“Thanks.” He said, lifting his mug into an almost toast, and studiously avoiding Jimin’ eyes.

"Yoongi.“ The name said all the things that words couldn’t. Jimin wasn’t stupid, and didn’t appreciate being treated as such. They both knew something changed last night, whether it was for the better or for the worse, Jimin didn’t know. It somewhat hurt that Yoongi refused to acknowledge it, but Jimin did it first.

Still, it stung.

"You’re welcome.” He murmured instead. If Yoongi didn’t want to talk about it, then Jimin wouldn’t either. He could sweep it under the rug, but the way Yoongi made him feel…

He couldn’t ignore that. He never would.

He turned away, went to the sink, placed his cup there. What would Yoongi do? What was he thinking now?

Weak. Too weak. Jimin bared himself out.

He was compromised.

Yoongi watched Jimin go, watched him almost slump above the sink, and he felt the thing inside of him, the thing that had snapped the night before go taut.

Jimin was right there. And Yoongi, Yoongi was just, what, going to watch him, and eat his breakfast and then leave, and try and try to forget about everything? No.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that.

So instead, he got up, chair squeaking a bit, and he walked over to Jimin, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist just like he had in his fantasy, but, instead of merely resting his head on Jimin’s shoulder, he kissed the long column of the man’s neck. It wasn’t sensual, wasn’t even really a sexual kiss. It was pure affection. Feeling.

And, if Jimin was uncomfortable, if he didn’t like it, well, the worst he could do was kick Yoongi out.

That would have happened anyway, wouldn’t it?

The warmth was back, and Jimin was too raw, too needy, to refuse. Because he wanted it. Wanted this.

For a long time he hadn’t felt so… consumed by anyone before. Yoongi was an exception, he was _special_.

He inhaled a sharp breath, gathering Yoongi's arms into his own, stroking the clasped hands as he felt lips on his neck. He shuddered, not because it was something sexual, not at all, but because it was…

His heart was melting.

He gripped Yoongi's forearms, pulling him closer, until he felt the entire line of his chest pressing against his back, tilting his head to the side, back, so Yoongi could do more. He felt the strangest urge to cry, this tenderness was almost unbearable to feel.

But he didn’t mind. He welcomed it with open arms.

Yoongi had been braced for rejection. He’d been holding onto the idea that Jimin would push him away, or simply pull away, or, perhaps even worse, just stand there, unfeeling and uncaring, letting Yoongi do whatever he wanted, though Jimin didn’t want it himself.

But instead, Yoongi felt himself pulled in further, until he was flush against Jimin, the other male’s pliant body melting back into his, neck bared and beautiful, and Yoongi had never felt as relieved, as awed, or as privileged as he did right at that moment.

So he kissed at Jimin’s neck, mapping out the contours of it, the sweet veins and the tight muscle, delighting in the sheer smooth wonder of it all. They were so close that Yoongi could half imagine that they were fused together, melted together, no longer two separate beings, and definitely no longer alone.

So he held Jimin close, kissed him like he was the most precious thing in the world, and silently prayed for more time.

Jimin never wanted this to end. Every touch on his neck was like an electric jolt, making goosebumps rise, heat pooling and curling in his blood. So this was how it felt to be wanted, Jimin thought, dazed, a silent gasp escaping his lips.

Maybe this was just a moment. Maybe it wouldn’t be permanent.

But he had it here, now, and it was more than he could ever hope for. He might never see Yoongi again, and he would jump into another man’s arms after he left.

But that didn’t matter so much anymore, because it wasn’t like this, like Yoongi was literally grounding and holding him from falling off. He felt… loved. And yet as he arched for Yoongi's touch, he let the feeling wash over him, to grip him tight.

Because he knew it would burn, and he would never, ever be able to leave Yoongi's side again.

Was it possible? To care for someone this much after one night? Was it possible to want someone this much? Yoongi didn’t know what was wrong with him, really. Because no normal person felt a connection this strong to someone they’d only known for a night. It wasn’t possible. It was against everything Yoongi knew, and he didn’t understand it one bit.

But God he wanted it, craved it, half needed it with an intensity that more than startled him. It consumed him. He found himself kissing up to Jimin’s jaw, pressing kisses along the strong bones that made up his jawline, and he paused at Jimin’ cheek, just to whisper into the man’s ear. “Can I kiss you, Jimin?”

_Oh._

Jimin’s eyes nearly slid shut at the plea, and he almost went boneless in Yoongi's arms. His heart pounded quickly inside his chest, so many different emotions whirling and stirring inside him he didn’t know how to name them all. And yet the intensity lingered, and Yoongi's rasp twanged and tugged at Jimin’s heartstrings.

To kiss him. Whores don’t let anyone kiss them on their mouths, it was something sacred, special, and was meant for the one that made their world turn upside down.

Jimin never let anyone kiss him on the mouth.

But Yoongi did more than that, he shattered his world completely. To know that Yoongi still wanted to, despite knowing how many men had bedded him, made his chest ache fierce. “Please,” he breathed. He was beyond caring. To wanted to preserve this memory forever.

It was that, Jimin’s breathy little plea that sent Yoongi careening over the edge, past the point of no return. Because no one could fake that, no one could say please like that and not _mean_ it.

And it was that knowledge, that Jimin, even if only a little bit, wanted him too, wanted him enough, that made Yoongi kiss him.

Yoongi had kissed before, of course. He’d kissed boys, he’d kissed girls, he’d kissed boys dressed as girls, and girls dressed as cats, and everything in between. But he’d never kissed like this. He’d never really kissed like he meant it, but God, did he mean it.

He meant every brush of lip against lip, every soft caress of his tongue, every single little breath that escaped his mouth, only to be breathed into Jimin’s. Because Jimin was every inch of him perfection, as far as Yoongi was concerned in this moment, and he couldn’t get enough.

Jimin moaned, deeply, head completely tilted back and all but sagging had it not for Yoongi's strong, sure grip on him. This was insane, there was no way someone could feel something like this and not go crazy. His hand traveled up, to caress Yoongi's cheek, to grip the back of his head as he was devoured, wholly and completely and it never occurred to Jimin to say no.

He kissed clumsily, breathlessly, consumed with passion. He wanted Yoongi closer, kiss him harder, until he didn’t know where he ended and Yoongi started and it was glorious. It meant a lot to him, giving Yoongi this kiss, parting his lips and letting Yoongi take, take, take, and he gave back as good as he got, plunging, embracing Yoongi's roughness, his gentleness, just wild abandon and he had never felt more free.

Everything was a blur of sensation. The feel of Jimin’s hand on the back of his head, anchoring him, tugging him ever closer. The feeling of Jimin’s stomach under his hands, the way it rose and fell with every short intake of breath. The sugar sweet, bitter coffee taste of him, smooth as the cream he’d put in it.

And, underneath it all, there was an even sweeter taste of something purely Jimin, like light. Warm, sweet light, that filled Yoongi up with a kind of hunger, needing, always needing more of Jimin, and Jimin gave it to him, gave him everything, and Yoongi gave right back, put his very soul in Jimin’s hands with nothing but a kiss.

It was all fast, and slow, like time itself had gone syrupy, winding around and dripping slowly, not fast, not slow, not anything really. Just moving towards the next move of Jimin’s lips, the next rough rasp of his tongue.

Time was a foreign concept. To be trapped in that moment with Yoongi was a death Jimin would welcome happily. He suckled the coffee and bacon off Yoongi's lips, the taste of beer heavy on his tongue, along with something more musky and masculine and _him_.

Every breath he took Yoongi inhaled and gave back and Jimin could live that way forever.

But eventually it softened, like a sheet of rain dampening a fire, and it was slow, the winding down, decreasing into soft, gentle pecks on each other’s bruised lips, and Jimin didn’t even realize that his eyes were shut, eyelids slowly drifting open to meet solid, dark brown, the earth, calm and tranquil and peaceful.

He inhaled a breath, their lips just slightly apart, and rested their foreheads together, panting. His fingers curled in Yoongi's dark hair, as Jimin struggled to compose himself.

What had he done? And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

Yoongi didn’t exactly know how it had happened, but there Jimin was, looking at him with those big eyes, slightly hazy, glazed over with that something that was making Yoongi's own pupils overtake his eyes, darkening them.

It was everything and nothing all at once, and Yoongi didn’t quite know what to do with himself, because he was ruined, utterly ruined for anyone else. No kiss would ever measure up to that kiss, and Yoongi highly doubted that anything, sex, food, even his baby would ever quite live up to this moment Because Jimin’s eyes were so damned beautiful.

Not the kind of beauty you read about in storybooks, the limitless sky or the depths of the sea or what have you. They were a warm sort of beauty. Like the blue ink on old stamps, and the color of his mom’s favorite dress. It was real, a beauty anchored in life, and Yoongi was so lost in it, that he didn’t know how he’d even begin to find his way out.

It was easy to get lost in Yoongi's eyes, but he had to pull back. Yoongi was too far out of it, he knew, and it was overwhelming. Jimin struggled for a moment, but he succeeded, pulling back, both physically and emotionally.

His hand dropped, slid to the side of Yoongi's face, lingered on his lips, before dropping completely. The moments before were like a hazy dream and he was waking up, he didn’t want to, but he had no choice. Jimin moved his head away, staring forward and down, but didn’t pull away from Yoongi's embrace, his hands going back to its original position on Yoongi's forearms. His heart was still beating fast.

“Yoongi.” His voice was hoarse, and tight with emotion and he had to clear it. He didn’t think it would devastate him that much, or that deep. Yoongi was dangerous to his heart.

The tears were welling up before Jimin noticed.

And it was over far too quickly, in Yoongi's opinion. Jimin was puling away from him, looking away, and Yoongi could almost see the nearly unfurled part of Jimin curl back up into himself, hiding himself away.

And Yoongi had never hated anything more.

He hated those ice cold boundaries with a passion, wanted to burn them down, warm them up and break them off, shatter them so completely that Jimin would never fail to let him in again. And he shocked himself with that kind of emotion, how intense it was.

He had no right, he told himself, to expected something like that of Jimin, nor to even want it. It wasn’t his place.

But then, Jimin said his name, in that soft, trembling voice of his, and Yoongi knew. It just clicked on, easily as a light.

With that, he moved away from Jimin, gently turning the man around a bit, so that he could cup each of Jimin’s cheeks with the palms of his hands. “Hey. Hey, look at me.” He said softly, soothingly. “I know.” He added. Because he did. He knew just how Jimin felt, knew exactly how twisted and messed up and so, utterly right this situation was.

He nodded back, helplessly gazing into Yoongi's eyes again before leaning forward, resting his forehead on Yoongi's shoulder. He was vulnerable, and Yoongi knew.

He took another shuddering breath, and tried to keep it together. His fingers curled on Yoongi's shirt again, and he stepped closer, just waiting to be enveloped by Yoongi's arms again.

“I’ll be all right.” He said, barely above a whisper. It hurt, letting Yoongi in and shutting him out again, but it was for their own good.

Jimin thought he had given too much, but it was all right, if it was him. “Just give me a moment.”

Their hearts were fragile. Love and sex were two completely different things, and someone who always gave their bodies up had to protect their hearts because they were always giving away a piece of their soul every single time.

This time, it was different, he gave up not just his soul but his entire heart and that scared him. “Just… hold me.” Having Yoongi close helped.

"Yeah.“ Yoongi rasped, low in his throat. "Yeah, of course.” He could do that, hold Jimin. Even though he was plagued by what he _couldn’t_ do.

Couldn’t turn this situation around, couldn’t fix it, stitch it up and make everything alright again. He couldn’t take his heart back from Jimin, because first, he would have to admit to himself that he’d given it.

And, perhaps worst of all, was if Jimin chose to give Yoongi even a small, sliver of what Yoongi wanted to give him, Yoongi couldn’t protect it, couldn’t keep it safe and cared for like he wanted to.

Because Yoongi only had room to take care of one person, and that person was himself. He was all broken and smashed up inside himself, and he didn’t know how he’d even begin to hold on to Jimin, to hold on to any bit of him, no matter how badly he wanted to.

So he just put his arms around the other male, drawing him in and holding him close, and wishing that it was all as easy as this, as easy as just holding Jimin.

It took a while, but Jimin managed to calm himself down, barely holding on to his composure. He shouldn’t break. Not here, not now. It was his fault in the first place, to let themselves go on for so long, and he was paying the price. He took deep, steadying breaths, letting Yoongi's presence center him back.

When he came back to himself, he nodded and stepped away, his lower back hitting the table, and he gripped it with both hands. “I think… you should finish eating.” He said unsteadily.

Time. He needed time for himself, but he couldn’t bear to kick Yoongi out. “It’s already cold, but it’s still eatable.” They both needed some space. And if Jimin was planning on bedding Yoongi last night, now he really couldn’t. Not with the feelings involved. It was… too intimate.

Cold invaded Yoongi's senses. He hadn’t really been aware, just how much he’d gotten used to having Jimin in his arms, warm and soft and so unbearably perfect. Now that the man was away from him, his hands gone white knuckled with his grip on the table, he was cold, and there was a permeating feeling of simple loneliness. The exact thing that Yoongi had come here to save himself from. And what a good job he’d done of it too, for a while.

But there were consequences to his actions, and this was it. He had no doubt that it would be like this, even when he went home. The feeling of cold slowly freezing him into nothing, until he inevitably came back to another brothel for a fix of warmth. Still, he gave Jimin a short smile, and went to dig in to his cold breakfast. “Hey, who am I to waste a good meal, am I right?”

Jimin merely nodded, not trusting his voice any more. Frost. He felt frozen, the simple warmth Yoongi gave to him now completely gone. He didn’t look up as Yoongi left, continued to eat the cold meal, swallowing thickly, willing his hands to stop shaking.

Stop wanting him. Stop needing him. Stop feeling like you have a chance for some happiness with him.

He was a whore. A man who bedded other men for money. He was dirty, he was corrupted, he wouldn’t suit someone like Yoongi who was kind and good and loved his friends to death.

 _Whore._ He gritted his teeth. _Slut._

And because he was one, because he lived like one, it was only right that Yoongi saw him as one.

The morning continued, silent. Yoongi finished his meal and Jimin cleaned up quietly, avoiding Yoongi's gaze, his touch, his warmth as best he could. As the clock ticked by, ending their time slowly, Jimin knew he had to prepare for Yoongi's departure.

Back to being no one. Back to being a breathing sex toy for the man with the right price.

He discarded his robe, letting it flutter to the ground as he opened his closet, baring himself completely in front of Yoongi. This robe had another man's scent on it, after all.

Yoongi looked up at the sound of the closet opening, only to see a whole new expanse of creamy skin, pale and perfect, smooth as porcelain, marred only by a few bruises the must have formed from the night before, or even some night days past. Yoongi couldn’t be sure.

Jimin was no paragon of purity, that much was certain, but he was so heartrendingly beautiful, that Yoongi almost felt like the fact that Jimin wasn’t pure, that because he was world weary and jaded and still strong, still standing, made him all the more precious.

He knew that he was just like all the others, captivated by Jimin, by the beautiful butterfly caught and fluttering in a glass jar, but he couldn’t help but stare. Then, he looked back up at Jimin’s face, saw the sadness, the resignation, and he found himself on his feet right along with Jimin, looking at his face rather than his body, even though his eyes mourned the loss.

He grabbed Jimin's arm lightly, and the other man glanced at him, guarded, fragile, about to break.

He still had time. He wanted to spend every single second he had with Jimin, even if his heart would shatter in the end.

“I’m not going to do anything.” He said softly, hands on Jimin’s shoulders. “Not because I don’t want to—” He added, with a sweeping look down Jimin’s body. “Because you’re gorgeous. But I just want to spend this with you. I'll take it. Whatever you give."

Jimin stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment, and nodded. He reached up, and cradled Yoongi's face gently. He was trembling. He was so terrified, of what he could give, if he would give too much. He didn’t know what he wanted to do.

But if Yoongi just took him to bed, maybe everything would go back to the way it was. He should let Yoongi fuck him. He should let Yoongi have his way with him, so everything would be back to its proper place.

So Jimin could have closure. He wanted Yoongi to know. Just how many men used him, and how Yoongi would be just a notch on his bedpost. Because that was what Yoongi should be. A notch.

Not… Not someone he…

Yoongi stood still all through it, letting Jimin decide what do to, what he could take. Time was growing short. Until Jimin leaned forward and kissed him, soft, fleeting, the touch of a fallen cherry blossom. And before he knew it, he was whisking Jimin over the the bed, bending the man over it, and kissing down that beautiful body. Jimin wanted to be fucked, wanted Yoongi to simply _use_ him, and Yoongi ouldn’t.

Nothing was that simple any more. He could fuck Jimin, wouldn’t sleep with him, wouldn’t bed him, wouldn’t claim him, make him his, because he either had no right to do it, or because he just plain couldn’t. He could do something though, could do this for Jimin.

He could suck kisses into the man’s neck, worship Jimin’s body with his hands, with his touch. He could touch Jimin like he was everything, like he was perfect. Someone to be held the right way, _loved_ the right way. No, Yoongi didn’t think he’d ever be able to fuck Jimin. But, he could make love to him. With his hands and his mouth, and any other part of him that Jimin wanted.

Jimin had the grace of an angel that had been defiled too many times, and here was Yoongi, about to defile that angel once more.

Jimin arched his back, moaning as Yoongi's lips set his skin on fire again. “Please, please,” He gasped, gripping the sheets tight, offering his body like he had done so many times before.

But this was different. He let Yoongi kiss him deeply, hold him like he was a precious treasure, and Jimin felt free. It hurt. Of course it did. But more than that, he felt he could breathe easier, lighter, and the hurt eventually faded away. He could lose himself like this. With the others he knew every single excruciating moment, praying for it to be done and over with, but with Yoongi it felt almost natural to give himself up, to let Yoongi take control and mold him as he wished.

His hands looked and yearned, finally found Yoongi's hand, gripping tight, lacing their fingers together.

Yoongi was lost in Jimin, in the white planes of his body, in the gentle slopes and mounds and soft skin that made up his figure. Jimin was just as good as Yoongi had ever imagined he would be, soft in all the right places, hard in all the others. Muscle and skin of silk, and every bit of him exquisite as a china doll.

There were blemishes of course, bruises and such, and, in Yoongi's opinion, it just made him all the more tragically beautiful, easier then to kiss away all the apparent pain, because it felt like you were _doing_ something, that you were loving someone, and that they were letting you.

Jimin was letting Yoongi love him, offering nothing else but gasped pleas that nearly destroyed Yoongi from the inside out, and he stopped for a moment, letting his head rest a bit on Jimin’s stomach, where he’d been trailing kisses along the man’s stomach. He closed his eyes, felt Jimin breathe, felt Jimin's hand card through his hair, out of breath.

The alarm sounded.

He took a moment before getting up, and looked up at him, eyes sad. Then he kissed Jimin one more time.

"I should go."

It was like the world stopped with him as well, and a horrible, terrible cold washed over Jimin. A part of him was relieved, that it didn't go further, but the larger part was already breaking in pieces, and Jimin closed his eyes.

Something wet and warm slid down his cheek. "I understand." He watched as Yoongi moved away and off the bed, and slipping into his shoes and jacket, making sure everything else was in place was well.

They knew it could only end like this but, somehow it was better, to leave rather than to stay here, and sleep with Jimin, and make love to him when there was only so much time they had. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough.

It would be messy, and awful and beautiful, and Yoongi honestly didn’t know how he’d handle it. If he’d be able to recover from having something so terribly wonderful, or if he’d be ruined forever, unable to cope with the knowledge that he’d never have it again.

He knew full well what he’d do. He’d grab a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey and he’d down both of them, sleep with someone else, go work, and do it all again, in different orders.

And no matter what he did, he’d never forget. He doubted that even now, without fucking Jimin he’d forget a second of tonight.

A part of Jimin broke. He wanted Yoongi to stay, plead with him, wanted to take him away, to blabber his apologies and keep him there until the end of time, but reality was cruel.

So he didn’t move, didn’t make a sound when Yoongi kissed him and shuffled around, getting his things.

Last night… was the most beautiful one he had. Yoongi's kisses… he would treasure until he stopped breathing.

But not this. Anything but this.

Later he would go back to normality, letting men in and pleasure him and themselves, but the ache for Yoongi's touch would never go away. He had done what whores weren’t supposed to do.

He fell.

He walked with Yoongi to the front door, opening it for him, and it was goodbye. Jimin bit his lip, looking down, harshly blinking to force the tears away.

He needed to say goodbye. They both did.

So when Yoongi couldn’t help but walk back over to Jimin, and take one last, lingering kiss from him, even though he knew that it was wrong, that he didn’t have permission, Jimin accepted it, curling his small hands on Yoongi's leather jacket, clinging until the last moment.

"Have a good day." Jimin breathed against Yoongi's mouth, a sentence, a mockery.

“... I'll see you, Jimin.” Yoongi murmured, and turned around.

Finally, the door was shut.

* * *

Yoongi was an idiot. He’d walked right out, left without another word, and all he wanted to do was run back into that room, grab Jimin and shake him, ask him why, beg him to just love him too.

But, that was an unrealistic fantasy. Jimin was a prostitute. It didn’t matter to him if one of his clients fell in love with him. It was his job to lay there, listen to Yoongi go on and on, and make Yoongi feel comfortable, feel loved.

And now he, like a stupid, green as grass idiot, had gone and fallen head over heels for the one man he could never be with. Because they were both broken, each in their own ways, and when two people are broken, there’s no whole person to fix them, put them back together and keep them that way.

So Yoongi went home, got into bed and just looked up at the stupid, cracked ceiling, with little water stains spider-webbing across the pale cement. This place was a dump. So instead he forced a cheerful smile on his face, dumped Namjoon, who was still asleep, out of bed, and proclaimed that they needed to go to work.

And, if Namjoon saw the look on his face for what it really was, he didn’t acknowledge it. All he did was let Yoongi drive, and when he stayed inside the studio for a week, composing song after song after song of heartbreak and first love, Namjoon didn't bother him.

He was hurt, but he would be fine.

His muse would live on in his music, in his heart.

* * *

It was only then that Jimin allowed himself to curl up and cry, at his hopelessness, at his weakness.

There was still time to pull himself together, and when the phone rang again to say that he had a new client coming up, Jimin had been ready.

He cleaned up, let the housekeeping take all the dishes away, and dressed himself in a different robe, the one he wore with Yoongi kept and stored in the closet.

And when the new client entered, there was no talk, no pretense, just took him face down on the bed while fucking him from behind, and eyes remained unseeing, clutching the sheets again, to ride out the rhythm.

Yes. This was how it was supposed to be.

He didn’t expect to see Yoongi again. The days in the brothel continued as it always did, and Jimin was busy entertaining one patron after another. The gifts still came in, as well as the adoration and affection of his loyal clients, the offers of taking him away still constant and present.

He changed, a little. He looked into space more, a little more quiet, a little more reserved. It was all he could do, get lost in the monotony of his chosen profession, take more and more clients until all he could do during the nights was to pass out in exhaustion, not dreaming, to just deaden the pain in his heart.

He only confessed to Taehyung, co-worker and his sort of family in the brothel, and he knew how painful it was, how tiring.

He cried himself to sleep, cradled in Taehyung's arms and it was the only time he broke down and cursed the heavens. He didn’t think of Yoongi often, but when he did he lost hours wallowing, and it affected his business.

So he resolved to do better, earn more money, and let himself be taken out regularly as an escort, to restaurants and parties and just… anything, to keep busy, when he didn’t used to, before.

The blue robe was still there, untouched.

And for once, Jimin felt he could breathe freely again.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly? I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just wanted to write a Prosititute!Jimin and Client!Yoongi but it swerved way out of its lane. Maybe because I wanted to write something different about this AU? Because the prostitute!AU usually's just PWPs or it becomes something more, but yeah.
> 
> It's not your typical Brothel AU, and I'm okay with that. The title is like that because, like the mathematical lines, they just meet once and will never cross paths again. 
> 
> Or maybe not? I might do something else in the same universe but with a different couple. TaeKook? Or NamJin. I'll think about it.


End file.
